


The Bridge

by PurpleFairy84



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Danger, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Kidnapping, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-20
Updated: 2014-03-20
Packaged: 2018-01-16 10:12:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1343731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurpleFairy84/pseuds/PurpleFairy84
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A tense situation on the QE2 bridge forces Sherlock to realise how important John is to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bridge

Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade held out the police mobile on speaker phone for all to hear.

Standing on the Queen Elizabeth II Bridge and listening in with him were 10 men from the armed response unit, Sally Donovan and Sherlock. 

“What are your demands?” Greg was asking in to the phone.

“I want Sherlock Holmes. He and I have … unfinished business.” A deep voice replied.

“Where’s John?” Sherlock shouted before Greg could object. The consulting detective cast his eyes past the road block on the bridge, looking for evidence that John was with serial kidnapper Bill Chambers, the man on the phone.

“Oh he’s here. He’s a bit tied up at the moment though.” Bill chuckled, delighted at his own joke.

In the distance they could see several men getting out of a car on the other side of the road block, carrying what appeared to be an unconscious man.

“Sherlock… what was John wearing when he was abducted?” Greg asked cautiously, afraid of the answer.

“Blue jeans, maroon shirt, grey cardigan…” Sherlock sighed “Yes that’s him.”

“Shit.” Greg swore quietly as they all watched the men carry John to the railings. “Now hang on Bill, so far you’re up for kidnapping. No need to add murder to that charge is there?” Whilst talking, he signalled to the armed officers to approach slowly with their weapons trained on the abductors.

Sherlock grabbed the phone off Lestrade. “You can have me. I’ll come. Just set John free.”

Greg snatched the phone back.

More laughter came down the line. “Well well Sherlock… have I found your weak spot? Could it be that Dr John Watson is important to you? You… the psychopath?” 

“Sociopath!” Sherlock couldn’t help but interject.

“Excellent, excellent. You caused me a great deal of trouble Sherlock. I’m going to have to teach you not to meddle in other people’s affairs.” 

“I’m coming over, just don’t hurt John.” He begged and started making his way toward the car.

Greg grabbed him by the arm and pulled him close. “Sherlock, what the hell do you think you are doing?” he whispered fiercely.

Sally suddenly gasped loudly causing Greg and Sherlock to turn quickly to see what had caught her attention.

As small as the men appeared at this distance, it was obvious what they were doing. They were hauling John’s unconscious body over the railings of the bridge. 

“Jesus!” “Oh God!” The two men swore, frozen to the spot.

“Say goodbye to your friend Sherlock.” The sinister voice declared over the phone and promptly hung up.

There was no time to react. Nothing that could be done to stop John from being thrown roughly over the edge of the bridge. Nothing to stop him plunging swiftly in to the unforgiving cold of the Thames. Nothing to prevent him from being dragged under the water and swept away by the strong current.

The armed police officers charged at the men responsible, yelling at them to hit the floor and put their hands on their heads. An order which they readily obeyed.

Sherlock sprang in to action, lunging at the railings and scaling them like a man possessed.

Greg yelled and quickly grabbed hold of his coat. “Restrain him! Sherlock! Stop!”

Sally watched as it took 4 full grown men to pull the manic detective back down and safely on to the ground. They had to be rough with the distraught man as he put up a valiant fight. Eventually they all stilled and Greg gave the signal that they could release him now.

Sherlock sprang straight back up. Already exhausted from the struggle, he was no match for the DI, who easily held him back from attempting to leap from the bridge again.

“Let me go! There’s still time...” Sherlock shouted hoarsely. 

“No!” Greg wrangled the detective further away from the railings.

“It’s the fastest way to get to John.”

“Sherlock, no! That’s suicide… no-one could survive that drop, it’s about 200 feet!” Greg held on to his friend’s shoulders, keeping him firmly in place.

“Let me go!” Sherlock cried, immense distress evident in his voice as he breathed heavily, on the verge of hyperventilating.

“No…” Greg’s face showed his own distress at the doctor’s demise, still hanging on to Sherlock to prevent him from jumping in to the Thames. “There’s nothing we can do.”

“There was plenty you could have done!” Sherlock roared, ripping away from Lestrade and glaring wildly at everyone around him. “I told you this wasn’t the best course of action, but no-one listened to me!”

Tears started forming in his eyes as he vented his anger and upset.

Sherlock crouched down, palms to the tarmac, breathing erratically and visibly shaking.

“I could have saved him. If you had listened to me in the first place, John wouldn’t…” he choked on the end of his sentence, tears falling with increasing fervour. “He wouldn’t…” Sherlock held his hand out towards the dark water below, unable to finish.

“He’s right you know.” Sally’s voice quietly backed him up. Her arms were crossed over her chest and she shivered at the thought of the kind-hearted John Watson perishing in the murky depths of the Thames. “We played this all wrong… and now John’s paid the price.” 

Greg put his head in his hands as he let the wave of guilt consume him. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“Boss!” Sally’s yell pulled the DI out of his misery to see one tall consulting detective leap over the barriers on the road and sprint towards the men on the ground, now restrained by the police. 

They ran after him and reached the site in time to see Sherlock being held back again by several burly officers.

“Sir, he’s threatening to kill them. Do you want us to cuff him and chuck him in the van too?” 

“Lestrade! Tell your men to unhand me!” Sherlock had stopped crying, adrenalin and anger taking over instead.

Greg walked passed him and addressed the handcuffed men on the floor. “Where’s Bill Chambers?”

“He’s not here. He gave us instructions over the phone.” One prone man helpfully supplied.

“Then where is he? He must be nearby. He’s been watching us the whole time.” Greg demanded, hauling the man up roughly by the back of his collar.

“Ahh! He.. ahh! Give off!” 

“You going to tell me what I want to know? Or do I need to instruct my officers to look the other way while I set about convincing you to spill?” Greg threatened in a low growl in to his ear.

“Fine, fine!” The DI dropped his charge and proceeded to wait for the explanation.

“Bill’s in warehouse 15, just on the other side of the bridge.” The man nodded in the right direction. 

Greg pulled his phone back out and barked some orders for his officers to get to the building quickly.

Sherlock took the moment of distraction to break free and took off at speed towards the building in question, somehow managing to dodge everyone who tried to stop him.

“Oh dear God in heaven, he’s going to kill him.” Greg groaned in despair. “Sally follow me, we had better get there quick.” He called his men on the river bank again, warning them of Sherlock’s imminent arrival and ran as fast as his legs would carry him.

Half way there, Greg got a phone call and paused in his running to answer it. The two officers were bent over gasping for air after their sprint when they heard a voice on the mobile telling them that they had found Dr Watson.

“You what?” Greg spluttered.

“We found him tied up in a room on his own. He’s fine. The others are searching the rest of the place for Chambers.” The calm voice reported.

Greg felt anything but calm. “Wha… I don’t understand!”

“Greg?” John’s unmistakable voice came over the phone.

“Jesus mate, we thought you were dead in the Thames!” Lestrade exclaimed.

“What’s going on?”

“We were on the phone to Chambers when three guys pulled a man out of a car and threw him off the QE2 Bridge. We thought it was you, he seemed to be wearing the same clothes you disappeared in!” Greg started getting his breathing under control as he mentally tried to pull himself together.

“Oh, that’s why they took my clothes.” John joked on the other end.

“This isn’t funny John, we thought you were dead. Sherlock still thinks you’re dead!” Sally yelled in to the phone.

“Christ, Sherlock! Where is he? Has he reached the warehouse yet?” Greg asked in a panic. “He’s intent on making Chambers pay for murdering John. You have to stop him.”  
“We haven’t spotted him yet boss.” The officer on the phone replied.

“Shit, I’m sorry Greg, Sally. That must have been awful. I’ll find Sherlock as soon as I can.” John assured them. 

“We’ll be there soon. Frankly I’m surprised Sherlock hasn’t made it there yet.” Greg started jogging towards the building again.

“Unless he has of course.” Sally warned. “The mission he’s on, he’ll probably find Chambers before our men.”

“Find them both quickly!” Greg barked down the phone before hanging up.

 

At the warehouse John felt his anxiety levels rise, knowing now that Sherlock was out to kill a man for apparently shoving John in to the Thames. He briefly looked down at his state of undress, wearing only his socks, boxers and a white t-shirt, before quickly dismissing this is irrelevant when his best friend was under the misapprehension that he was dead.

He joined the search, wishing like hell that he had his gun on him, and maybe some more clothes too.

10 minutes later and most of the warehouse had been searched when Greg Lestrade and Sally Donovan arrived and found John.

Greg gave the doctor a quick hug. “It’s good to see you mate.” He said warmly.

“Hey likewise. I’m afraid Sherlock still hasn’t turned up.”

“Sir!” A man came running up to Lestrade. “We found Bill Chambers, he’s held up in a room on the 5th floor. Follow me sir.”

The four of them made their way quickly up 4 flights of stairs and found the room in question, where the atmosphere was undeniably tense.

On one side of the room stood Bill Chambers, back against the wall and hands cuffed behind his back.

In front of him stood two armed police, blocking his body from the view of the fourth person in the room…. Sherlock.

The detective was shaking violently and holding a gun unsteadily out in front of him. “Get out of the way. This man needs to pay for what he’s done.” His voice was low and gravelly with emotion. His whole being screamed ‘man on the edge’.

Greg decided to intervene quickly. “Sherlock put the gun down, there’s no need to do anything rash. John…”

“John!” Sherlock screamed, never looking behind towards the new occupants in the room. “John is dead because of this scum and your officers need to get out of my way.” His hands shook harder as a few errant tears fell from his face and on to the floor.

“Sherlock… stop this.” John attempted in a calm voice as he approached his best friend.

Sherlock’s head whipped round as the doctor swiftly pulled the gun from his hands and disarmed it, holding it behind him for Greg to take, never tearing his eyes away from the distraught man in front of him.

Sherlock stared as if he couldn’t believe his eyes until John gently took a hold of one of his hands and slowly pulled him towards the door.

“Come on, let’s get out of here. Greg’s got this sorted.” John spoke softly and treated Sherlock with great care as if the detective may collapse at any moment.

To be fair that was a distinct possibility as Sherlock’s brain caught up with the new situation and was overwhelmed with immense relief and a surge of joy at seeing his best friend alive.

They made it out of the room without incident, Sherlock looking much like he was sleep-walking until they were in the corridor alone.

Sherlock rushed forwards, enveloping John in a crushing hug, bending down to bury his face in to the doctor’s neck. John held on tightly, smoothing one hand up and down the taller man’s trembling back to comfort him.

“John… John…” Sherlock mumbled “John… you’re here, you’re ok.”

“Yes, I’m fine Sherlock. We really should go now. You’ve had a shock.”

I saw you fall, I saw you…” Sherlock scrunched his face up and tried to pull away but John didn’t let him get very far.

“They took my clothes and dressed someone else to look like me. He was messing with your head Sherlock, probably trying to provoke the very reaction he got.” John explained while pulling his friend back in to a comforting hug. “Chambers wanted to get revenge, maybe he thought you would be emotionally compromised enough to make a mistake.”

Sherlock’s shivering began to subside but his vice-like grip on his blogger didn’t let up. 

“I tried to jump.” He confessed quietly in to John’s chest, his eyes screwed shut, not really sure why he was telling John this.

“What do you mean?” 

“I tried to jump off the bridge to rescue you… Lestrade stopped me.” Sherlock went rigid, unsure how John would receive this news.

“Jesus.” The doctor sighed, turning his face in to the head of curly hair for comfort. “Jesus am I glad he did.”

“I thought I’d lost you.” Sherlock whispered before suddenly and unexpectedly touching his lips to John’s.

They stayed still for a few moments, eyes shut, lips touching, breathing suspended, until John recovered from the shock long enough to initiate a proper kiss. He moved his lips with purpose, touching, tasting and teasing, both of their breaths becoming ragged, hands skimming and searching until Sherlock secured his to hold John’s face and the doctor placed his firmly on Sherlock’s hips.

They came together like they had done this a hundred times, as if they knew instinctively what the other liked and wanted. Sherlock began to claw desperately at John, as he recalled the sickening horror of watching his best friend being thrown off the bridge. He wanted to devour John, he never wanted to let go.

John sensed the change and set about trying to calm Sherlock, rather than ramping up the sexual tension. He knew what it was like to watch someone you love apparently fall to their death, only too well actually. The hurt and betrayal of Sherlock’s return still stung, though the relief to find his friend alive greatly out-weighed any of those negative emotions.

John soothed and caressed with gentle hands while reducing the kissing to little pecks and nibbles on those perfect cupid’s bow lips. Sherlock made desperate but quiet moans, wanting more contact than John was giving him. 

The doctor whispered words of love and encouragement in between little kisses until finally pulling back to stare in to his friend’s face. “Sherlock, you ok?”

The detective nodded once and leant his forehead against John’s in order to maintain the feeling of closeness.

“Good. We really should think about leaving you know.” John smiled cheekily. “This really isn’t the place for this.”

For the first time that afternoon, Sherlock gave a small but genuine smile, one that conveyed his relief and affection.

At that moment, DI Lestrade marched out of the room and came to a sudden halt in front of the two men sharing an intimate embrace in the corridor. Greg looked like he didn’t really want to interrupt but felt he had to. “You two should probably get home now, Sherlock’s had hell of a fright and you John, you need to put some clothes on!”

“Sound advice Greg, cheers. Can we give statements tomorrow?” John asked, gratefully, never taking his eyes away from Sherlock’s.

“Sure. Just go home and take care of yourselves. I’ll speak to you tomorrow.” Greg turned to leave but Sally lingered a while longer.

“I’m really glad you’re ok Dr Watson.” She smiled tentatively.

John pulled back from Sherlock a bit to look at the sergeant properly. Sally seemed apologetic, though he wasn’t sure why. He made a mental note to ask Sherlock about it, later though, much later.

Instead he settled on a simple “Thanks Sally.” 

Donovan turned and left the two friends alone again. In the distance, John could hear people talking, moving about, securing the warehouse and searching it further no doubt. 

“Let’s go Sherlock.” He declared quietly, accepting the hand that intertwined with his, figuring his friend still needed reassurance that he was alive and ok. The two of them walked hand in hand through the building and out on to the street where they swiftly caught a taxi home, to Baker Street.


End file.
